Rick and Morty drabble
by voice of morgoth
Summary: Just a little thing I wrote to get the writing juices flowing again. Features a drunken Rick stumbling into Beth's house when Morty is ten and before Rick came to live there permanently


"The… the fuck… the fuck-where-where am I?"

The world spins in beautiful circles, reality contorting in a daze of meaningless drivel. Spit, burp, barf, and falling, falling onto the hard, solid floor. Brown carpet, a couple of couches, and some random obstacles in the form of a table and a couch. Luckily, somehow, Rick had managed to avoid crashing into anything harmful. Instead he's found his way onto the nice, comfy floor.

"Ssss-s good floor. C-comfy *burp* nice floor."

Rick passes out as the hours tick by. Tick tick. tick tick. The clock annoys him, even though he's not awake. The sound is too much like that of a super bomb, or a bloobity splig from Cromulon 9. So many memories. So many screams. He had almost been one of those screams, and he's damn certain several Ricks had lost their lives to a bloobity. Rick rolls around on the familiar floor. He wakes up in the night, or maybe he never fell asleep, but he sees two big eyes staring right in his face.

"Who-who the hell are you?" Rick asks.

"I'm Morty."

"Oh, hi, Morty."

"Hi, Grandpa Rick."

Rick groans and moans as he lifts himself off of the floor onto the couch.

"What… what time is it, Morty?"

"Almost four."

"Sh-shit." Rick mumbles as he closes his eyes. After retreating from a battle with his particular version of the galactic federation, Rick had stumbled into the one place worse than space prison or time jail. This boring old house, this dumb family, these annoying people of whom there are infinite versions of, each one a person he can just barely tolerate long enough to have a conversation with. And now there's this dumb kid.

"Crap, how old are you, Morty?"

"I'm ten." the shy boy replies.

"Oh, s-s-ssso your ten now, huh?"

"Yeah."

"So why'd you get up?"

"I needed to use the bathroom."

"So long as you d-don't use the sink." Rick jokes. "Made that mistake once. Wife wouldn't let up about it."

"Okay." Morty replies, as if he's hearing sage advice about life choices. Morty scoots up against his grandpa. The man smelled of various fluids Morty couldn't exactly place, but he didn't really mind, as this was one of the few times he's met his grandpa. The man rarely showed himself. The times Rick showed up were in the single digits. A couple were holidays. He would show up, never say much of anything besides jokes, and leave before anyone could say goodbye. Most times, like this, Morty would find his grandfather passed out on the couch, or in the bathroom, and even once at the side of his bed. And every single time, Rick would be gone by morning.

"Are you staying, Rick?"

"Nah… gotta gotta go fix Global Warming. Gotta… gotta make s-sure one reality isn't isn't shit."

"That sounds fun."

"Nah, not really. But gotta do it. I I I mean it would suck to live in a… in a universe where some stupid o-o-orange guy d-decided not to stop it… And everyone, like, died in the next hundred years. Wouldn't it?"

Rick doesn't seem to be asking Morty the question. Instead he stares into space, as if asking an invisible audience. And then he gives a knowing wink.

"Wh-why are you winking?"

"Eh, just a bit. D-don't think *burp!* about it, Morty."

Morty looks away, wondering what his grandfather is rambling about. Sometimes he'd act as if he was on a television show, like a late night comedy program for edgy teens and depressed thirty year olds who hate themselves. Morty didn't understand it. He never understood Rick.

"So… are you coming back after, Rick?"

"Why y-y-you gotta always ask that?"

"Because you always leave for so long."

"W-well maybe I always leave b-b-because you can't stop asking, huh?"

Rick looks down at Morty, who is stunned and now on the verge of tears. "Ah, shit. I didn't meant that, Morty. I just –just don't… don't always know what… what I'm doing, what I'm saying. It's not your fault."

Rick moans slightly as the blue light before dawn creeps into the room. "So Morty, how're you doing?"

"I'm fine. Mom says I need to study better in school, but it doesn't work much."

"Meh. Sch-school was never a g-good place for… for smart people anyways."

"It's not?"

"No. I mean, Albert Einstein didn't go to school and he turned out fine. Made some light shows… or something."

Rick burps and gurgles on his spit up before swallowing again. His liver was tough, tougher than most, but the almost daily challenge Rick was putting it through was astounding. He punches himself once in the stomach to make sure his vital organs are all still functioning.

"So-s-so you see, Morty? It's, like, just like the big book… the good book. David and Goliath. You know?"

"Um, not sure, Rick."

"Yeah, you're right, it's all bogus anyways."

Rick passes out from the booze circling his veins and spinning in his brain. Morty watches his broken grandfather. He didn't yet know the extent of Rick's ruinous mind, and yet, he can see that there is pain on his grandpa's face. Even in sleep, Rick is restless. His mind is chaos and his world is meaningless, and he's insane enough to sell the rights to film his entire life story to 4d reality tv monsters who are now constantly filming him.

Morty stays with his grandpa as long as he can, but soon falls asleep as well. And in the morning after he wakes up, sure enough, Grandpa Rick is gone. All he leaves is a small sticky note for Morty.

"Life is butts. Booby butt butts."


End file.
